


Return to Me

by RobberBaroness



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: F/M, Foreshadowing, Ritual Sex, Sibling Incest, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: Morgan casts a spell upon her brother.  Arthur lets her.
Relationships: Morgan le Fay/Arthur Pendragon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Return to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roguefaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguefaerie/gifts).



“You will return to me. You shall not die but shall always return to me.”

The taste of wine is on Arthur’s lips, the scent of smoke and myrrh fills his lungs, and Morgan’s soft voice rings in his head. He lies on a silken rug in the middle of her drawn circle as she straddles him, his hands interlocked with hers, and her steady chanting is interrupted only by her sighs and subtle moans. She looks like the graven image of a goddess with her curling dark hair spilling over her bare shoulders like a waterfall, her curves soft and warm, her fair face flushed with passion, and he can fully understand why others believe her to be a fairy. Perhaps she was a changeling laid in a Cornish cradle. Perhaps he is not committing a sin against god after all.

The spirits Morgan conjures are screaming in his ears, or perhaps it is only the sound of his own blood rushing to his head. If Morgan hears any of it, she shows no sign. There is no spirit that could ever conquer her.

“My love, my blood, you will always return to me.”

When Arthur lay with Morgause and sired her son, he had not known of the doom he was inviting. When Arthur married Guinevere, he had not known that they would both betray their vows. But he cannot claim ignorance with Morgan as she casts her spell binding their souls together with the strongest bond she knows. His knights still cry for Morgan’s blood in defense of their king, and here the king is beneath her, willing and knowing and blasphemously in love.

Uniting them by blood was yet another of Uther’s crimes. She could have been his queen, and what a grand ruler of Camelot she would have been. When he first saw her look upon him disdainfully even as he sat in the throne of the High King, he had known he would always seek to be worthy of her respect. She never gave it, and yet here they are.

“My love, my blood, I shall always find you.”

He’s groaning with each movement, whispering her name like the words to a prayer. He doesn’t know what spirits she is calling upon now, or if she has such power that she need only invoke her own name for her magic. Her traps and trickery had plagued his reign (“I’ll bed all your knights and corrupt all your ladies!” she had once boasted), but when he came to her alone and defenseless of his own accord- when she could have easily cut his throat and left him to the beasts of the forest- she welcomed him into her castle, her chambers, her arms. To know once and for all that she had never hated him was its own kind of spell.

“If you need me, I shall find you. If you call out to me, I shall come to you. You shall always return to me.”

Her voice has grown shakier, her grip on him even tighter. She guides his hands along her body, pressing into them when they reach her center, and now their bodies are moving as one. Morgan lets him move his hands to push her along to a height of pleasure, and when she finally cries out and clenches around him, Arthur at last feels his body pulse and his head swim. If he dies in this moment, he knows his spirit would still cling to her.

“I have always loved you,” he tells her when she lies down beside him in the chalk circle, amid the silks and the rose petals with which she had consecrated it. She rests her head on his chest and wraps an arm across him, her legs entwined with his. The spell is over, but neither feels like moving a muscle.

“And I, you,” she says softly, “or the spell would have meant nothing.” And for one more night they will stay in each other’s arms, before they must each face their own lives.


End file.
